


Stone Cold Heart (New York)

by m3aculpa



Series: dark_bingo, round 2 [3]
Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Gang Rape, M/M, Off-screen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-09
Updated: 2012-04-09
Packaged: 2017-11-03 08:19:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/379292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m3aculpa/pseuds/m3aculpa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New York is a beautiful lady with a heart cold and hard as stone.</p><p>For the prompt <i>rape/non-con</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stone Cold Heart (New York)

**Author's Note:**

> **Title:** Stone Cold Heart (New York)  
>  **Fandom:** Glee  
>  **Rating:** R  
>  **Word count:** 836 words  
>  **Character(s):** Jesse St. James  
>  **Pairing(s):** Jesse St. James/OMCs  
>  **Warnings:** Non-graphic rape  
>  **Prompt:** Rape/non-con for [](http://dark-bingo.livejournal.com/profile)[**dark_bingo**](http://dark-bingo.livejournal.com/).  
>  **Summary:** New York is a beautiful lady with a heart cold and hard as stone.

**Stone Cold Heart (New York)**

  


The steam was fogging up the glass. The roar of water against the ceramic floor almost drowned out the sound of the beating of his heart. His fists were clenched by his side, nails digging into his palms, as he stood indecisively outside of the shower. The dirt was seeping into every nook and cranny of his body. Into his mind.

Did he want a shower? Did he want to wash the evidence away? He could still go to the police.

( _a hand covering his mouth, rough alley stone under his hands, thrusts jerking him up, making him feel like he was being split into two, moist breath against his ear, a harsh voice,_ _“quiet!”_ )

He’d been curious. That’s why he couldn’t go to the police – he’d been curious. The age-old college experimental phase had led him to the bar with the intention to pick a guy up. He knew enough of the world to know that if he reported them, it would come up. It would also mean that his case would drop to the lowest priority possible.

The worst part of it all was that he’d _liked_ him. The man had known Sondheim in a way that Jesse hadn’t seen since Rachel. It hadn’t helped that he’d found him attractive either. It had seemed like he found exactly what he was looking for. He hadn’t hesitated when the man asked him to come back with him to his flat, but had eagerly followed.

Eagerly followed him into the alley and to his two waiting friends.

( _gravel digging into his hands and knees, hand fisting his hair, fingers digging into his jaw, forcing his mouth open, a whispered threat, something thick being forced into his mouth, gagging, fighting for breath, tears running when he can’t **breathe**_ )

He found himself inside the shower, before he could think about it. Still fully dressed. The water was almost unbearably hot through his ruined shirt. It would scald his skin. He needed the pain. Needed it badly.

He tore the shirt off himself and tossed it onto the floor outside. Water burnt his bare shoulders and he growled. With renewed frenzy he attacked the zipper – the only thing holding his pants up, belt broken and button torn off – with his broken nails. He kicked them off and out of the shower.

Nothing could make him look down at his body. Bruises on his hips, the bite mark on his neck, the bruises on his face, the torn nails, blood in a pink spiral down the drain, other fluids he can’t think about. He clawed at the skin as he tried to wash himself clean.

( _the third going behind him, thrusting inside, choking a scream against the cock invading his mouth, being rocked into the one fucking his mouth, teeth sharp against his neck, marking him_ )

Getting out of the shower, he was quiet as to not wake his roommate up. Not that he needed to worry about that – his roommate was sleeping like the dead and snoring away happily. Jesse was envious. He threw the clothes under his bed. He would throw them away in the morning.

Normally he would sleep in a t-shirt and boxers, but he couldn’t stand the idea of being so exposed. Instead he pulled out his thick winter pyjamas− the heating had a terrible habit of going out in the winter –and crawled in under the covers. He was sweating and shivering in turns. A shudder wrecked his entire body as he heard the echo of a whisper,

( _“pretty”_ )

before going under.

He woke up early and put thick theatre make-up over the bruises. Turtle-necks or scarves to hide the bruises on his neck. The limp is explained away and everybody bought that he’d twisted his ankle during dance rehearsal. He couldn’t quite focus, mind flickering about in endless loops of destructive thoughts, eyes flitting over the corridors, the streets, searching and terrified that he would meet his attackers. His grades were slipping, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

New York had always been beautiful to him. An elegant woman − vivacious and strikingly beautiful. She was still beautiful. But it was a terrible beauty, all of sudden. He could see the alleys like bruises on her skin. He could see her swallowing people whole and spitting them out, like empty shells. He thought he might have been one of the people she’d swallowed and spit out. There was nothing left of the person he’d been before. His eyes were bruised when he looked himself in the mirror and something was missing from his eyes.

He loved New York. He also hated the city with a passion.

It was a bit of a relief when his grades dropped low enough for them to kick him out. He could slink back to Lima without the shame of making a conscious decision of running away.

He ran back to Lima with his tail between his legs.

Away from the stone cold heart of New York.

  


  



End file.
